Not All Who Wander
by kangaroo2010
Summary: A wise man once said, "Not all who wander are lost." When a prince finds that he's not a prince anymore, he decides to test that statement, see where it leads him. What follows is something that he never expected. Warning: Mild adult content. No lemons, though. The children are safe.


HE SAT DOWN WITHOUT ASKING. Just up and plopped himself down on the other side of the table. The day was hot and muggy, the village baked by the sun, the people lethargic and lazy. I had attracted no notice on my way into town, wandering in out of the countryside, my face shaded by one of the conical, wide-brimmed straw hats that are ubiquitous in this part of the world. I was dressed in faded Earth Kingdom greens, with a pack slung over my shoulder and a walking stick in my hand. If anyone looked at me, it was only the kind of glances one gives when a harmless-looking stranger wanders across one's field of vision. They probably gave me an once-over, saw nothing worth noticing, and forgot about me.

Not him, though. He was young, probably a good ten years younger than me. I was twenty-eight that summer, and it had been that long since I had been there last. I had avoided the village, until the day I found my feet taking me down that dusty little track through golden-brown hills hazy from the heat, stretching off into a shimmering horizon. I had paused when I realized where I was, where I was heading. I tossed my pack on the ground and sat down beside it, rolling a cigarette and sticking it my mouth. I lit it with a match struck off my worn boots. The only people around were a few peasants going to and from their farms, but I didn't see a reason to startle anyone with an unnecessary display of firebending. I smoked the cigarette down to my fingers, slow and lazy, taking the time to watch the pale white smoke vanish into the dusty air before taking another puff. I don't remember if I thought anything during that pause; odds are, I didn't. When I was done, I tossed the butt to the ground, stubbed it out with my boot, shouldered my pack, and continued down the path I was following.

That was the path that had brought me here, to a noodle shop crammed into a corner of a house that seemed to lean with the breeze. It creaked and it groaned, and the table I sat at wobbled then my pack made contact with one of the legs. I ordered some food and a mug of weak beer, having long since learned not to fully trust the safety of water in such places. I was in the middle of eating when he sat down. I hadn't noticed him, but I wasn't startled. Indeed, I didn't even look up. One often finds oneself sharing tables with people one doesn't know at such establishments.

But he noticed me. I felt his eyes upon me, eyes that I ignored. Maybe he knew me, maybe he didn't, maybe he only thought he did, I didn't care. I only wanted my food, my watery beer, and directions to the nearest clean creek. I didn't particularly want to look at anyone, and I _definitely_ didn't want to talk to anyone. He didn't seem to care, though.

Finally, after I don't know how long, he cleared his throat. I looked up, saw him, saw his youth, looked into the eyes, eyes that I recognized instantly. A pang of guilt, a bad memory that hit me like a bucket of water on an ice cold morning, shot through me, but I swallowed it with a gulp of my beer. I didn't say anything, just looked into those eyes. He didn't say anything, either, just watched me eat. He took out a pipe, packed it, lit it with a match. He took a few puffs, long, slow ones, like the way I'd smoked that cigarette. He opened his mouth, closed it. He repeated the action a few times. I could practically hear the wheels turning and grinding in his head. I couldn't help but wonder how long this was going to last, him watching me eat, me watching him watch me eat. I was struck by a sudden urge to laugh. Before I could succumb, he finally spoke.

"Do you remember me?"

I gave a slow, measured nod. The voice had changed; he was no longer a little boy. He was young man grown, tall and gangly, with stubble on his cheeks and the lean, tanned body of someone who's spent their life in the fields. "Yeah," I said, my voice a bit raspy from disuse, "I remember you."

He took a long, deep puff, blew it out through his nose. Somewhere in the kitchen, a cooking fire hissed and cracked. At one of the other tables, an old man spooned noodles into his mouth, his chopsticks shaking in liver-spotted hands. At another table, the waiter, no doubt the owner's son, leaned his face into his hands, staring off into space. A couple of children kicked a ball around in the street, and I could hear a dog barking in the distance.

At my table, though, it was very still.

"Do you remember my name?"

"Yeah," I said, wondering where my vocabulary had gone, "I remember your name." I took a bit of my food, swallowed, washed it down. "You're Lee, the boy I saved."

His eyes narrowed. "Is that how you remember it?"

I sighed. "It's how I choose to remember it."

His eyes seemed to harden, and then, like that, they relaxed. The anger seeped out of him like a knot coming undone. He slumped down onto the table, and looked away. "You know," he said, "for the longest time, I hated you."

For a second, I saw a little boy, spitting around the ground before turning his back on me, eyes full of hate, eyes that used to haunt me in my sleep. "I know," I said.

"Did that bother you?"

"A lot," I admitted. I chuckled, and broke off a piece of bread to sop up the last of the broth in the bowl. "I really wanted to do something right for a chance, something that _felt_ right, something that I had decided for myself was right, and just when I thought I'd done it, I was reminded that that's not enough." I looked down at my bowl, concentrating on my task. "I was only nineteen, and was a bit tired of the taste of disappointment."

He looked back up, and his eyes went to my scar. "I can imagine." He took a deep breath, let it out. "Is it true?"

I frowned into my beer. "Is what true?"

"How you got your scar?"

"As in, did my father really do this to me when I was fifteen?"

He answered with a nod.

"Yeah," I said, wincing at a memory I haven't dealt with in years, "it's true."

He looked down at his hand, resting lightly on the rough cheap wood of the table. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

It was hard not to laugh at that. "What for? You didn't make my father a crazy son-of-a-bitch."

He closed his eyes. "Not for that; for how we treated you." He opened his eyes, raised them once more to my face. "You were only trying to help. Half the reason I hated you was because you were Fire Nation, and I didn't know how to handle that. None of us did."

I could only shrug at that. "It's water under the bridge, Lee." Finally, it was my turn to look away. I turned my head, focused my good eye on a sign whose paint was so faded it was almost blank. The breeze was light, almost nonexistent, hot and dry, barely enough to be felt, and yet the sign swung back and forth, back and forth, as if there was a gale. I wondered how long it had been doing that. Had the sign been there when I was here? Had it swung in the same breeze? Was the dust on the streets the same? Had anything changed? Was I just trapped in some strange cycle, repeating the same scenes over and over again, only the order and the setting changed, and sometimes not even that?

_Did it matter?_

I sighed. I rolled myself another cigarette, and lit it with a flame from my thumb. If anyone noticed, they didn't feel the need to comment.

"Just water under the bridge…"

* * *

><p><em>We're in my mother's garden. Whenever I'm here, I can feel her presence. Sometimes, I imagine that I can see her, just out of the corner of my eye. Sometimes, the feeling is stronger than imagination. Sometimes, the feeling is a palpable presence. I feel that I only have to reach out, spread my fingers, and she will be there, taking my hand in hers. <em>

_ I never have this feeling with my good eye. No, it's only in my bad eye, my dead eye, that I get this sensation. It makes a certain kind of sense; that eye didn't have to spend as long without her until it was snuffed out. My good eye has seen too much to entertain such fantasies._

_ I voice this idea to the dark-skinned girl beside me. She's twirling her fingers through the air, making the water in the pond dance. The dance has a rhythm, a pulse, like blood pumping through a vein. It seems to move in time with my heart. Not for the first time, I wonder if our hearts beat as one. This is an idea I don't voice to the girl, though._

_ The girl doesn't respond at first. She's been at the Palace for weeks, helping me heal from what my sister did to me, what she tried to do to her. Word has finally arrived from the Earth Kingdom; we're relaxed, calm. The War is over; the Avatar is one his way, my father in chains. Even all of our friends are alive. And yet, I still feel drained, let down. I think she does, too. There's no other explanation for the strange things we keep talking about._

_ When she speaks, she doesn't comment on what I'd said. Instead, she says, "Why won't you take the crown, Zuko?"_

_ I take a drag off the cigarette in my mouth, send the smoke curling into the sky. "Because I'm waiting for my uncle to come home."_

_ She turns a wry smile on me. "But he's not going to be Fire Lord, Zuko."_

_ To that, I can only give a wry smile back. "Of course not, but neither am I."_

_ She doesn't reply to that; she never does._

* * *

><p>Song is happy to see me; she always is. She was the first stop I made, when my journey began. I wasn't as lean then, wasn't as weathered and tanned. My clothes still had a hint of newness to them, and my beard was still only half-grown. I hopped a ship to the nearest fishing village and came right here. I used the last of the money my people had given me to buy the best ostrich-horse I could find, complete with saddle and accoutrements, and made a big show of riding it right up to her front door. Her mother was less than pleased to see me, but Song, it seemed, had forgiven me not five minutes after I'd stolen the one I was replacing. She never bothered to explain why she never held a grudge against me, just thanked me for the gift and asked me if I wanted some tea. I spent the rest of that summer and the following fall working in the village fields, and then, with some money in my pockets, I set off again.<p>

We're sitting out in the fields now, watching the sun crawl across the sky. We're drinking strong tea, peasant tea, the only kind of tea I've ever actually found myself enjoying. We've set ourselves down on a long, low rock, almost like a bench, handily provided by the gods. Before us, her two children chase each other around, whooping and hollering. Her husband is somewhere out in the fields, working away. He didn't know what to make of me at first, but now he likes me just fine. He always shakes my hand, and puts me to work when I ask.

He's never asked if there was anything between Song and I, back during that first long stay, before they got married. Apparently, he's never even asked Song. I often wonder why, though I've never felt the need to ask.

Song's oldest, a boy about five named Bohai, runs up to me. He stops right in front of me, head tilted to the side. He straightens his head, tilts it the other way, then repeats the movements in the opposite direction. I mimic him, mirroring his open, quizzical face. This goes on for a good minute or two, until he bursts into light-hearted laughter. He runs up and gives me a hug, and I return it without hesitation. It's been a long time since I flinched away from hugs. He pats my knee, and I set my tea cup aside and plop him down. He bounces, not saying anything. _Uncle Zuko_, as he knows me, has always been the quiet type. He knows this; sometimes, when I visit, he'll play a game with me, wherein he tries to see how much we can do without speaking. He's much better at it than me; I always end up saying something and thereby losing. Normally, this is intentional on my part.

Song giggles, reaches over and ruffles her son's hair. He huffs and moves to my other knee, the one away from his mother. I chuckle and say, "What, mad at your mom?"

He heaves a heavy sigh. "_No_, it's just that girls are _icky_."

I laugh. "But, your mom's not a _girl_, she's your _mom_."

He purses lips, deep in thought. Just like that, a light goes on in his head, and without missing a beat, he leaps down and hurls his arms around his mother. Song laughs and ruffles his hair once more. Satisfied with the attention he's received, he runs back out to where his little brother has yet to stop running in aimless circles.

Song sighs, happy and content. "You know? You'd make a good dad, Zuko."

To that, I can only huff a derisive snort. "A good dad? I barely a good _friend_, much less a good _dad_."

She rounds on me, slapping me lightly on the arm. "What have I told you about that?"

I make an innocent face. "About what?"

She rolls her eyes. "Sometimes, I think I liked you better when you were angry and morose."

"Heh…you know, you're not the first person to say that."

She pops an eyebrow. "Really?"

I nod. "Really."

"Hm." She turns back to her children, just in time to return the wave of her youngest. Somewhere, a bird sings. I close my eyes to listen to it. It's very light, very beautiful. In my mind's eye, the bird is ugly, hideous, even. This bird, though, is not shunned by the other birds. See, it has the most beautiful voice of all the birds in the world. Females throw themselves at his feet, and other males can't even bring themselves to be jealous. The birds are always trying to crown him king, just based on his singing.

He ignores them, though. He just wants to sing.

"Are you going to stay long this time?"

I shake my head, not opening my eyes. "I'm afraid not. For once, I have a place to be, a destination to reach."

She scoffs. "Zuko the Wandering Prince, with a place to be? Well, I never."

"Heh…strangers things have happened, Song." To illustrate, I get to my feet. Making a sound that could best be described as _geriatric lion with a cold_, I swoop down on the children. I snatch them both up under my arms and swing them around, roaring. They squeal with delight, while their mother claps her hands and laughs and laughs and laughs.

* * *

><p><em>It's my twenty-first birthday. It's been two years since the end of the War. In that time, I doubt I've slept a whole night through. I don't mind, though. It's all been worth it, for the first birthday present I've received since my mother vanished from my life.<em>

_ I'm standing in the throne room, or, at least, what __**was**__ the throne room. A workman hands me a sledgehammer. The Lord High Fire Sage says a prayer. He turns to me and blesses me, blesses the hammer, blesses us all. From the crowd, my uncle beams. I raise the hammer, and everyone's hearts stop. What feels like a long moment passes. Everything slows down. I pause, the hammer raised. All eyes are upon me. For that moment, I look for all the things I know I should feel. I know I should feel sad, lost, confused. I should be disappointed, maybe even ashamed. Three centuries of absolute monarchy, three centuries of my ancestors painstakingly transforming a nation of fractious warlords into a tightly-wound machine designed for one express purpose, and I've just spent the past two years convincing the people that they ruled that they don't need us anymore, and probably never did. It's an awe-inspiring legacy, and one which I am about to deliver the final blow to._

_ And yet, I feel…_

_ I feel…_

_**Free…**_

_I bring the hammer down. The throne shatters under the blow. The hall explodes into tears. My uncle is crying. I'm in the middle of delivering the eighth blow before I realize that I'm crying, too._

* * *

><p>I skirt Ba Sing Se, following a wide arc through the villages that dot where the northern walls used to be. Summer is fading, and autumn is in the air. The hills are green, the grass damp with mildew every morning. One day, it rains. I'm out in the countryside, far from anywhere with a roof. I look around, unhurried. I'm not terribly worried. Anything that might be hurt by the damp, like my map, my tobacco, my journal, is wrapped in waterproof penguin-seal skin, specially oiled and personally guaranteed to last by a Southern Water Tribe chief. Everything else can stand to get a little wet.<p>

I stand in the rain for a bit. It's not much now, just a light, steady drizzle. The trees bend and sway in the wind, and leaves rustle together, almost as loud as the rain. Thunder rumbles, low and deep, like a god clearing its throat. I close my eyes, tilt my hat back, let the rain roll down my face. I can feel the water coursing through the grooves my scar, tickling as it hits live skin again. It's always a strange sensation, water on my skin, water on my face. It's like my scar doesn't exist, as if my being has a hole in it. I can press my fingers to the crinkled skin, and if it wasn't for the feeling in my fingertips, I wouldn't even know I was doing it. Rain has a similar effect. I can feel the water soak into my hair, roll down my brow, but then, it just kind of disappears, until it comes out the other side and vanishes into my beard.

A sudden urge overcomes me, a madness. I duck under the trees, find a relatively sheltered spot, set my pack down. I strip off my clothes and run naked into the rain. I run and leap and shout and scream and laugh. No one's around, but even if they were, I wouldn't care.

At one point, I stop. I feel a presence. I turn, and there before me is myself, many years before. He stands tall and straight, chin out, shoulders back. Half his face is covered in bandages, but from the open, seeing eye, comes wave after wave of disdain. I look him in that eye, fix golden eye with golden eye. He tries to hold the gaze, but in the end, he falters. He always does. Why wouldn't he? He's full of shame, self-loathing. He's been abandoned, tossed aside, humiliated by the one person whose approval he most wanted. He doesn't know yet that that approval wasn't worth having.

_He doesn't yet know who he is, or what he's worth, or how important he is…_

For a moment, I consider telling him. I can't help but wonder if I'm dreaming, or if, just maybe, I've managed to wander into one of those _soft places_ that my uncle likes to philosophize about, where the barrier between our world and the Spirit World grows thin, and time loses much of its meaning. Maybe I'm not imagining things, maybe he's actually there. Maybe he's on that ship, right now, and he's wandered into one of those _soft places_, too. Maybe he's staring at me, wondering just who the hell I am. Would he recognize me as him, only far in the future? Somehow, I doubt it. That makes me want to tell him. I want to tell him that it's alright, that one day he'll be happy, that one day he'll smile again.

I want to tell him that he doesn't have to be so afraid.

But I don't do any of that. Instead, I throw my head back and laugh. When I look down, he's gone, a whisper in the wind.

I dance until the storm stops.

* * *

><p><em>I personally freed Mai and Ty Lee from the cell my sister had thrown them into. I felt that it was the least I could do. They had suffered for me; honor demanded that I not leave their liberation up to some flunky, or wait around until Mai's father got around to arranging it.<em>

_ I had sent orders ahead of me, of course. Most of the prisoners at the Boiling Rock were political prisoners, draft dodgers, deserters, men and women guilty of crimes that wouldn't be crimes for much longer. I had ordered that the actual criminals – thieves, murderers, and so on – be cordoned off, and everyone else be given the liberty of the prison until they could be processed. That would take time, because that's how the world works. But I still went there, because there were two people who simply couldn't be allowed to wait._

_ Ty Lee was the only one to have a reaction. She squealed and threw herself into my arms and covered me with kisses. She babbled like a brook in flood and danced around and wouldn't stop hugging me. She giggled at my hair and once more made her argument that I needed to grow a beard, not a __**silly creepy goatee**__, which was what she called what my father wore, but a __**real**__ beard. I laughed and traced the outline of what I knew I would one day grow and struck a silly pose. She fell silent at that. I frowned and asked what was wrong. She was silent for a moment, then threw herself into my arms again and gave me a big wet kiss on the check and said that she always knew I could laugh._

_ Mai didn't do anything. She gave a perfectly acceptable bow, then walked right past Ty Lee and I and out the door. _

_ We took an airship back to Miyako. We sat in a room and sipped tea. Ty Lee couldn't stop talking and dancing and bouncing about. She seemed to delight in making me laugh. She kept saying that I had a nice laugh, and a nice smile, and it was just __**nice**__ to see me do either of those things and actually mean then._

_ Mai said nothing. She sipped her tea and stared out the window, watching the clouds glide by._

_ It wasn't until we were in the palanquin, riding into the city, that she spoke. Ty Lee had jumped out of the palanquin and was doing cartwheels alongside it. She kept joking with the guards and they kept joking back and whistling and egging her on. _

_ Inside the palanquin, though, was total silence. I didn't know what to say, and it seemed Mai had no intention of saying anything. It was hard to look at her. She had always been thin, but now she was practically skin and bones. Her hair had been shaved from her head and she wore a scarf to cover the bristle. On the inside of her left arm was the prisoner number tattooed into the arms of all inmates at the Boiling Rock, the one that marked them for life. She kept brushing it with the thumb on her right hand. She didn't really seem to know she was doing it._

_ Then, she spoke, and the speaking was the most startling thing of all. It wasn't that it I wasn't expecting it; it was that I wasn't expecting the way she sounded. Her voice was harsh and cold. Before, it had just been flat, but there was always emotion thrumming around the edges for those who cared to hear._

_ Not, it was just empty._

_ "Are the rumors true?"_

_ I blinked, unsure of what to say. I lit a cigarette and looked out the open flap. The cloth was red and black, royal colors. The sunlight filtering through it turned my little world the color of blood._

_ "Which rumors?"_

_ She pursed her lips, as if considered what to say. Not for the first time, I wondered just what had happened to her in prison._

_ Not for the first time, I decided not to ask. It didn't seem my place anymore._

_ "We'll start with the one about how you're not going to take the throne."_

_ I sighed. Compulsively, I reached up for my topknot, which was bound with a simple golden band. There was no crown there, not even the Crown Prince headpiece I was technically allowed to wear._

_ "Not yet," I said, struggling to keep my voice calm and cool. I felt like I was a kid again, sitting across from her at one of our chaperoned __**dates**__, while we spoke to each other through intermediaries and her mother crooned about what we should name our children. "Uncle and I are going to put the country to rights, or at least start the process, and then we're going to let the people decide."_

_ She nodded. "Why?"_

_ I looked down at the cigarette between my fingers. I closed my good eye, watched the world disappear, watched my existence fade into a blackness that glimmered with pale, swirling light. For a moment, I was gripped with the feeling that none of this was real. I opened my eye, though, and it was still there. My hand, the cigarette, the palanquin that swirled with bloody darkness._

_ "Because it's time the people were given a choice. It's time that the tyranny of the Fire Lords came to an end. My dynasty took the throne on the promise that they would bring peace and prosperity. Instead, they brought war and oppression, all because they could. That must never be allowed to happen again."_

_ "In other words," she said, words cracking like the snap of a whip, "you've realized that you never really wanted to be Fire Lord."_

_ I looked at her, finally well and truly __**looked**__ at her. "What're you asking?"_

_ She looked me dead in the eye. My blood ran cold. There was nothing there. The warmth that used to hide there, the warmth and the depth of feeling and the love, it was all gone. One more crime to lay at my sister's feet._

_**One more crime to lay at mine…**_

_"I guess I'm asking about the other rumor."_

_ An image of dark skin sliding beneath cool silk sheets and dark brown hair that billowed in the wind flashed before my eyes. I closed them, and looked away._

_ "What do you want, Mai?"_

_ Her answer was quick, prompt, not a moment's hesitation._

_ "Nothing from you."_

_ We never spoke to each other again._

* * *

><p>I saw the Avatar today. I was crossing a river. The river was wide and broad, flowing soft and slow between hills thick with grain that danced golden in the sun. I crested a hill, and looked down upon a town that straddled the river, connected by a long bridge made of stone. The bridge was squat and ugly, pure function, none of the brutal grace of the Fire Nation or even the elegant utility of the Earth Kingdom. It looked very old. The bottom parts of it were covered in thick moss that looked worn and slimy, all at the same time. If the bridge had been a person, it would've owned an inn, and had short, thick legs and a belly that strained shirt buttons. It would've hard a voice like crushed gravel and its eyes would never laugh.<p>

The town itself was nothing special, either. I'd never been there before, mostly because I'd never taken this route into the southern portions of the Earth Kingdom. Normally, I either hitched a ride on a ship, working my way around the southern coast and back up again, or did the same on some boat or ferry, trawling the very river I was on. I had probably passed this town, sliding by it in the night, but I'd never actually been in it. Looking down, I couldn't help but feel that I hadn't missed anything. If there's anything that's disappointed me about my wanderings, it's been the discovery that so much of the world isn't worth looking at. For ever isolated village hiding some wonder or treasure or adventure, there's a hundred more that are so insignificant that even the locals haven't bothered to give them names.

I followed the road down into the town. Fall was finally here, and the air was cool and crisp. Harvest time was fast approaching. The world was a riot of golds and browns and reds and pinks. A week or two before, I had shelled out some money for a light cloak. I wore it now, hood up, gaze dancing over the sights. The town was festooned with even more color than the countryside. I looked over the signs, the happy faces, listened to the music whistling through the air, and decided that harvest time must be closer than I had thought. This made me frown; I really did have some sort of schedule to keep. If I was going to follow it, I needed to hit the southern coast right as the first round of winter storms cleared. I could ride one of the last trade vessels of the season. Once I was in the South…

_Once I was in the South…_

That's when I heard him. The bellow was unmistakable. Everyone around me burst into cheers, pointing up at the sky, but I did nothing. My heart sank. I didn't look up. I stopped cold. My hand gripped my walking stick, my knuckles turning white. I stuck my nose in the air, and caught a whiff whiskey. I turned my gaze, following my nose. I saw a tavern, just up the street. Smoke billowed out of open windows filled with red-cheeked men gazing up at the sky. The bellows were louder. Children began to dance and cheer and squeal. I made for the tavern. I slipped inside right as the ground shook with the air bison's impact. I looked around, my eyes adjusting to the gloom. I found the barkeep, at one of the windows, peering around his customers. I tapped him on the shoulder, handed him a few coins, asked if I could help myself. He counted the coins by hefting them in his hand. He pocketed the coins, shrugged, and told me to feel free. I slipped behind the bar, grabbed a bottle of bottom-barrel fire whiskey and a glass, plopped myself down on a stool on the other side. I had downed three glasses before anyone spoke to me.

"Give a girl a light?"

I turned to my right, found a woman sitting at the stool next to me. The bar was still fairly empty, everyone still clustering around the windows, or maybe having already dashed out towards the town square. The woman and I pretty much had place to ourselves.

She had a cigarette dangling from her lips. Not caring what anyone thought, I snapped my fingers and lit it with a flame from my thumb. She giggled appreciatively and took a long drag that most men would no doubt find attractive. No doubt even I would appreciate the gesture, had I been in my right mind. Instead, I rolled my own cigarette and set to some furious smoking.

I had downed two more glasses before she spoke again.

"Not a fan of the Avatar?"

To that, I could only shrug. I re-filled my glass and muttered, "Eh."

She returned the shrug. "Can't say that I blame you. Never did see what all the fuss was about."

I may not have spoken to Aang in years, and we may not have separated on the best of terms, but it wasn't exactly that I didn't _like_ the guy or anything. Sure he could be a selfish twerp, and sure, we had exchanged some angry words last we spoke, but that didn't mean that I was going to let some random barfly talk like that about him. "Well," I said, paying more attention to my whiskey than to my words, "in all fairness, he _did_ save the world."

To my surprise, she scoffed. "More like _took credit for saving the world._ Personally, I never really got what it was he did."

I turned back to her, really took her in. She may have been young, may have been old. I really couldn't tell under all the make-up. Her voice sounded young, but that may have been an act. She was no different from thousands of others in her profession that I had seen in countless bars and taverns and rundown inns. A voice came into my head, words from a young woman with long brown hair.

_I can't believe there are still people like that in this world._

My own voice came back, resigned and sad.

_People were hungry and desperate long before Sozin came along._

I still remember how sad she looked after I said that, how I had wanted nothing more than to reach out and snatch the words away, turn back time until the moment was gone. I had wanted to fall to my knees and promise her the moon, the sun, the stars, if only she would never look so forlorn and disappointed again.

But it was too late. It was always too late, when my big mouth decided to open itself.

I frowned. Such memories were cold, brittle, sharp as shattered glass. I always thought of things like that when Aang intruded into my life, even if only at the fringes. It was part of why I avoided him so much.

"I take it that you have a personal reason for not caring much for the Avatar."

Without a word, she reached over the bar and snatched a glass. She settled down, grabbed my bottle and poured herself a drink. She filled the glass to the brim, and knocked it all back in one gulp. Her body practically shook as it the liquor filtered into her system. A lone, solitary tea beaded in the corner of her eye, and just as fast, was blinked away.

"Towards the end of the War, the Avatar blew into my village. He and his friends fought some Fire Nation soldiers, defeated them, ran them off. We all cheered our liberation and he flew away, waving as he went. A week later, the Fire Nation came back. They burned the village and the fields and left us to starve. Not long after that, a bunch of bandits came. They killed the men, and I'll let you guess what happened to the women. A few years later, I saw the Avatar, not far from here. I went up to him and asked him where he'd been." She poured herself another drink, turned to me with eyes that were very far away. "He didn't even recognize me."

I couldn't think of anything to say to that, so I didn't. I pushed the bottle over to her, tossed her the money for another one, and left. On the way out of town, I saw Aang, standing up on a stage, giving a speech. I didn't bother to listen to it; no doubt it was about _peace_ and _freedom_ and _our bright, happy future._ No doubt it was very inspiring. No doubt if I stopped to listen, I'd be reminded of how much I love the kid.

He's not a kid anymore. It's been ten years; guy's twenty-four. He's tall and broad-shouldered and has a nice, thin, well-manicured little beard. He still smiles like a happy kid, though, and his heart shines out through his eyes.

No doubt that's why I'll never hate him.

* * *

><p><em>I stand in the cell. It's dark and cold. My father kneels before me. He sneers. He asks me what I'm there for, promises he'll never tell me where my mother is.<em>

_ My heart clinches. My resolve strengthens. When I speak, my words grind themselves out from the back of my throat._

_ "I already know where my mother is, you bastard. I found the man you had kill her, found where you kept her head in a jar. So, try again."_

_ I was prepared for a lot of things. I was prepared him to rant and rave, to laugh that evil, rolling laugh of his, for his face to twist into some absurd caricature of the villain from a cheap drama. I was even prepared to lunge for me, to make some final play for power or vengeance or both, to show that the loss of his bending was only temporary. I was prepared for anything, really…_

_ Except for his face to drop and his skin to turn pale. _

_ It was like watching him die, right then and there. That's why I've never felt like I killed him; it felt like he died long before I ever struck his head off._

_ That moment will stay with me until I die, will haunt my darkest nightmares for through all the long nights of my life._

_ The thing that spoke was not my father. My father had no emotions, no feelings, was barely even human. This thing, though? __**It was all too human.**__ It sniffled, actually fucking __**sniffled.**__It sighed and wiped its eyes. Its shoulders slumped and it croaked out in an alien voice, "I didn't want to do it…I had to…she made me…" It looked up at me with eyes full of madness and said, "Don't you see? You understand, don't you, Zuko?"_

_ I said nothing. I turned around, reached out my hand. Katara was there, in the darkness. She handed me the __tantō__and squeezed my hand in the darkness. I turned back to the thing that was my father, the thing I couldn't even hate anymore, and tossed the blade to the ground. It stared, uncomprehending. It looked up at me, confused. "What do you want?" it asked._

_ I swallowed hard. It was difficult not to cry. "For you take the blade and die like a man."_

_ He reached out, grasped the __tantō, hefted it in his hands. "But…who shall be my kaishakunin?"_

_ I held out my hand, into which Katara placed my katana. I held it the blade out before him. _

_ He nodded. A strange, sad smile seemed to quirk at the corners of his mouth. "I had a feeling it would be so." He nodded once more. "It feels somehow…appropriate." He unsheathed the tantō, lifted his shirt, positioned the tip of the blade at his stomach. I moved to his side, unsheathed my own blade, raised it into the position to strike. He took a deep breath, let it out, then sunk the tantō into his stomach. Without making a sound, he pulled it across his stomach, turned it, made the second cut, turned it, then made the third. Silent tears rolled down his face as he did this. As soon as the third cut was made, he stretched out his neck and I struck. I did my work well; his head was separated from his body in one blow. I dropped my katana to the ground and left it there. Katara held my hand as we left the prison._

_ Outside, the Avatar was waiting for us. Aang was furious, visibly shaking with rage. He stormed up to me and shoved me hard in the chest. He had tears in his eyes. _

_ "What did you just do?!" he shouted._

_ I pulled myself up. My hand had come undone from Katara's. She reached out and took it again. If Aang noticed, he didn't say anything. _

_ "Cleaning up your mess," I said, in a voice I didn't quite recognize._

_ That hit him hard. He actually seemed to rock back on his heels. His face went blank and his bottom lip trembled. When he spoke, his voice was that of a child half his age._

_ "I…I thought you believed in me, Zuko…"_

_ I looked down at him. It was hard to believe that someday, he would be as tall as Sokka, if not as tall as me. "I do believe in you, Aang. But that doesn't mean I believe you're right."_

_ He nodded, and when he looked up, the tears were gone, and his eyes were clear._

_ "I'll always love you like a brother, Zuko, but I'll never forgive you for this." He turned to Katara, and one could almost hear his heart break. "Or you."_

_ My tongue was thick in my mouth. I wanted to say something, but I couldn't trust that my voice wouldn't break. Thank the gods Katara said it for me._

_ "And I'll never forgive you for making this necessary."_

_ No one won, no one got the last word. We all just stood there, and then, as if by prearrangement, we all walked away, Katara and I in one direction, Aang in another. _

_ Aang and I never spoke to each other again._

* * *

><p>When I arrived in Gaoling, I got a surprise. The surprise came in the form of a tornado of activity that burst in through the door of my little room in the second-worst inn in town and tossed me out of my bed with a torrent of happy obscenities. I had barely had time to sit up and take stock of the situation when my pillow came flying out of the darkness right into my face. I pulled it aside just in time to dodge one of my boots, and just as I was starting to get a handle on the situation, the shirt I had left draped over the foot of the bed got itself wrapped around my head. With that, I had had enough. I yanked the shirt from my face and barked, <em>"For fuck's sake, Toph!"<em>

The only reply I got to this was hysterical laughter. I glared into the darkness, and realized with a shock that it was the middle of the gods-damn night. I shot yet another glare into the darkness that did nothing to stop Toph, and reached up and lit the candle on the nightstand with a spark popped between my thumb and forefinger. The candle flared to life, and the darkness retreated just enough for me to see the former Lady Bei Fong perched happily on my bed, kicking her bare feet back and forth in the air.

Not even bothering to reclaim my dignity in any way, I just snatched my pack from under the bed and rolled myself a cigarette. I paused, then rolled another. I let them both, and handed one of them to Toph, because I didn't feel like finding out what else she might be able to find to fling at me.

I took a puff, blew it out, took another. Finally, my brain was functioning just enough to actually have something to say. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Toph, but didn't I, like, just see you?"

She shrugged. "Well, depends on how one looks at it. From your perspective, and the way _your_ fucked up mind works these days, yeah, you _did_ just see me. But, thing is, I'm a _normal_ person, and for _normal_ people, when it's fall and you haven't seen someone since spring, that's what we like to call a _long fucking time._"

I rolled my eyes. "What, five fucking months of my life weren't enough for you?"

She raised the fingers that held the cigarette, wagging it through the air, the ember etching a Z in the gloom. "See, there's you problem. That statement implies that _you_ decide how much of your time is enough for me, when, in actuality, it's _me_ that determines such things."

My heart leaped, as for once I saw a way to eke out something from an argument with Toph that might resemble a victory. "Ah, but see," I said, jabbing a finger at her for reasons even I found hard to comprehend, "_you_ were the one who told me that I could take a break."

She scoffed. "That implies that you're dealing with a reasonable person, who doesn't reserve the right to change their mind on a whim."

I could feel my victory slipping away, but I wasn't about to let it go without a fight. "But didn't this argument start on the premise that you're a _normal human being_, and, thus, reasonable?"

She let loose a giggle, which is _never_ a good sign. "First, that implies that _normal human beings_ are, by necessity, _reasonable_, which is not necessarily the case. Second, I refer you to what I just said, about _changing one's mind on a whim._"

I huffed, completely aware of how much I looked and sounded like a petulant child, and not in the least appeased by the fact that Toph couldn't actually _see_ me. "You know, it's not really a _win_ if you just randomly change the parameters of the argument halfway through."

"On the contrary," she said, in a voice that could only be called a _victorious chortle_, "I would say that that is _exactly_ how one attains victory in _any_ argument."

I opened my mouth, closed it, opened it again. No doubt I looked remarkably like a fish flapping about on a pier. Defeated, I slumped down, focusing very closely on my cigarette. "For fuck's sake, Toph…"

She crowed, kicking her feet up in the air and throwing out her arms as she let out a cheer. Thus appeased, she very quickly settled down, hopping onto the floor and crossing her feet beneath her as she sat down. Without so much as a _by your leave_, she grabbed the edge of the blanket I was still tangled up in and yanked it away, wrapping it around her. This left her nice and warm, and left me exactly the opposite. I considered raising my body temperature a notch or two, but then decided that I just couldn't be bothered. I let her get settled, then said, "Alright, what gives?"

She pursed her lips, eyes focused on a cigarette she couldn't see, as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. "What gives, what?"

I shrug, scratching at my beard. "Well, I spend five months hurling fireballs at your students – and thanks for that, by the way, most fun I've had in years-"

"You're welcome."

"Indeed. Anyways, I spend five months beating the shit out of your students by day and getting loaded with you and whatever floozy is attached to you at the moment by night-"

"Hey!" she barked, eyes flashing. "I don't date floozies; I date ladies with floozy-like qualities that just happen to come to the surface when in my company."

"Fair enough."

"And besides, you're just jealous because I was getting more pussy than you were."

At that, I have to laugh. "Hey now, you know that's not true."

She popped an eyebrow. "What about me getting more pussy than you?"

"Toph, you get more action in a _week_ than I've gotten in my entire _life_."

She beamed. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

"Oh, I will."

"_Anyways…_but no, really, the part about me being jealous. Also, no, seriously, what gives? I spend five months at your academy up in Yu Dao, work like a madman, drink like a sailor, and then you let me go, and now, what, a month-long hangover just wasn't enough for you? You had to give me more?"

She adopted a thoughtful expression, tapping a finger to her lip. "Well, now that you mention it, I've always wondered what a _two_- month hangover would be like…"

I turn a little green at the mere _idea_ of what Toph could do in pursuit of such a goal, even as I admit to myself that it doesn't sound like an interesting proposition. "Please, don't finish that thought process."

She frowned, looking genuinely put-out. "Why the fuck not?"

I shrug, feeling suddenly awkward. "Because I have a schedule to keep…"

Her frown vanishes, replaced by a sly, knowing smile. "Oh? So, you're telling me that you're heading south with a schedule to keep?"

I raise my hands, as usual inwardly wincing at how one finds oneself making such pointless gestures whenever one talks to Toph, no matter how unnecessary they are. "Don't go down that road, please. Just…focus on what I'm trying to ask you, okay?"

She chuckles. "And the fuck's that, exactly?"

I try hard not to roll my eyes, and don't quite succeed. "Just, _why the fuck are you here?_"

She gives out a short, sharp bark of a laugh. "Oh, that!"

"Ugh. Yes, _that_."

She waves the question away. "Oh, I just felt like visiting my parents. Plus, the Earth Rumble is coming up, and I wanted to do some scouting for the academy. You know how much I like finding earthbenders where no one cares to look."

I think of exceptionally talented mute kid who learned most of his earthbending out of a book, despite the fact that he was illiterate, and how Toph found him when he tried to pick her pocket, and can only nod. "True…though…_visiting your parents?_"

She shrugged. "What can I say? They're getting old, and I feel bad that I'm never going to give them any grandchildren to spoil. Plus," she continues, obviously trying to shake away one of her rare moments of feeling flustered, "it's not like my parents were ever evil or anything. They're good people, who just didn't get their daughter and didn't know quite how to handle her. They fucked up pretty bad, too, but even I have to admit that it was with the best of intentions." She gives herself a final shake, then fixes me with a curious expression that immediately sets my alarm bells to ringing. "But since we're talking about what gives with me, what gives with _you_?"

I can't think of a way to respond, mostly because I haven't the faintest clue what's up with me, so I resort to shrugging and muttering, "I don't know what you mean…"

She scoffs. Sometimes, I wonder just how much money I had if I had a gold _yen_ for every time Toph has felt the need to scoff at me. "I don't even need my _Truth Sense_ to see through _that_ bullshit. So, really, just fess up."

Once more, I'm at a loss, which, I realize, seems to be a fairly common problem for me lately. First, I couldn't think of what to say to Lee, then I couldn't think of what to say to a vision of myself, and _then_ I couldn't really think of what to say to a random prostitute in a shitty bar in a bum-fuck of a town. At the very least, I decide, I get to be at a loss for words with Toph, which is a normal state of affairs for me. "Honestly," I say, waving my hand around in the air, grasping for words, "I just…felt like going, alright? Seven years I've been wandering, going where my feet take me, and now it's time to swing by the South, and if I'm going to get there before the New Year, then I need to time my trip very carefully."

She nods, obviously unconvinced. "Uh huh. But that still doesn't answer _why_ you're going."

I shrug. "I did answer that, to be honest."

She pops an eyebrow. "You did?"

I run a hand through my hair. "Yeah. I said…I don't know. Like…I really don't know. The best I can do is shrug and say, _Um…reasons?_"

She chuckles softly. Our cigarettes are long gone, and the candle is starting to sputter out. "So, you're not at all going to see her, eh?"

At that, I look away. I try to keep my heart from sinking, because, well, _she'll feel it._ "It's like I said: Honestly, I don't know."

She sighs. "Which is funny, because that's the closest you've come having an actual _point_ this whole business since you got booted out of office."

I raise a finger. "One, I didn't get _booted out_ so much as _talked my people into agreeing to let me go._"

"Point."

"And _two_, I hasten to remind you that not all who wander-"

"-Are lost," she finished, ending on a scoff. "Yeah, I know, I've heard that before."

I sigh. "I guess I've used that line one to many times."

She laughs. "And your uncle before you." Her face falls, and she looks away. "Gods rest his soul."

I reach out and pat her shoulder. "Hey, he went the way he would've wanted: With a belly full of food and tea during the dinner rush at the Jasmine Dragon. The gods are resting him just fine."

"Heh…yeah…" She sighs, and then leaps to her feet. She looks around the room, then seems to remember that she's blind. She sighs once more. "Well, enough of this. If we're both in town, we're both going to have a good time. Get dressed, and let's go."

It's revealing that I'm already up and sliding on a shirt, running one hand through my hair while I use the fingers on the other to brush out my beard, before I think of the obvious object. "But…wait…isn't it the middle the night?"

She rolls her eyes. "So?"

"Isn't everything closed?"

She laughs hard at that. "And that's ever stopped me…_when_, exactly?"

"…point."

* * *

><p><em>The last time I saw my uncle alive was also the last time I saw Sokka. I'd been wandering for about four years. I'd been just about everywhere. I'd been to the North, I'd managed to visit most of Air Temples, and I'd walked from end of the Earth Kingdom to the other and back again. The only place I hadn't been was the South. I didn't really know why. Or maybe I did. I really don't know. I just didn't go. Sometimes I'd find myself standing on a pier, my pack over my shoulder, looking at a ship bound for the South. I'd stare at it, look it up and down. I'd walked towards it, stop, walk away. Sometimes I'd even walk right up to the boat and chat with the captain. I'd find out if he needed any hands, and what for. Invariably, the captains always needed someone. They'd look me up and down, see my roughened hands and weathered skin, grill me about my experience, and offer me a job. I'd think about it, then I'd suddenly think of something else I wanted to see, politely decline, and walk away. The captains always looked disappointed. It was weird. No one was ever disappointed to see me go when I was prince.<em>

_ I wasn't even disappointed to see myself go when I was a prince._

_ At least once a year, I'd swing through Ba Sing Se. I never planned it, I'd just find myself in the vicinity, find a random road, and head in. I always walked in through one of the lesser gates, filtering myself into a crowd of peasants heading in to find work, bring their goods to market, that kind of thing. Sometimes I'd attach myself to a farmer and help him out in exchange for a ride. The city watch never stopped me, never even questioned me. They'd give me a once-over, if they noticed me at all, and wave me through. Then I'd stroll to the Fire Nation part of town, find the Jasmine Dragon, and set myself down at one of the tables. The servers would all recognize me, even the ones who didn't know me; they knew to be on the look-out for me. They'd never let on, though. It was part of the game. I sit and quietly sip my tea, and act surprised when my uncle leapt out of the back, enveloped me in a bear hug, and swung me around. We laugh and hug and slap each other on the back. He'd always compliment on how I looked, I'd pretend that he wasn't getting older and weaker, and then he'd shove an apron into my hand and put me to work._

_ My job was different every time. It all depended on what available at that particular moment in time. Sometimes he'd put me in the kitchen, though I was never allowed near the tea. Other times, I found myself in the office, going through the books and putting things in order. My favorite thing to do, though, was wait tables. This was strange even to me. I hated waiting tables the first time around. As in, fucking __**hated**__ it. Every gods-damn second of it. Now, though? I liked it. I have no idea why._

_ I never let my uncle pay me. It was enough to be there, crashing on his couch, staying up late listening to his stories. He's always manage to slip me some money on my way out of town, though. I have no idea how he managed it. I guess, no matter how old and wise I got, my uncle was always craftier than I could ever __**hope**__ to be._

_ I saw Jin from time-to-time. It wasn't like the friendship I developed with Song, though. I have no explanation for this. It was just the way things were. The first time I blew through, we on a few dates, had some laughs, but that was it. The second time, she was engaged, and we had a cup of tea, for old time's sake. The third time, she married and pregnant. We passed in the street and waved at each other. She was on the arm of what I assumed was her husband and I was on some kind of errand for my uncle. That was the last time I saw her._

_ The day I saw Sokka, it was raining. Really just pouring down. The gutters were flooded and water heavy with the refuse of the streets flowed down the hills of the city. The Jasmine Dragon was empty, the only inhabitants myself and the other workers, playing cards, smoking, and sipping sake by the light of flickering candles. My uncle wasn't feeling well, so he had stayed at home. I was worried about him, and I couldn't quite concentrate on the game. It was a good thing we were playing with rice grains, because I kept losing. If it'd been money, I would've cleared out by the third hand. _

_ We weren't expecting anyone at all; by all signs, the rain was going to continue all day, and the most we could hope for would be a few desperate regulars filtering in in ones and twos on-and-off during the day. We began thinking about what we would do when it was time to close. Most of the other employees wanted to go out on the town. The city was awash in dignitaries for some kind of big international conference; even Aang was in town, doing his thing. The bars would be open late, even with the rain, and besides, it had to stop eventually, right?_

_ I wasn't going to join, though, no matter how much they wanted me to. Like I said, I was worried about my uncle, and I wouldn't be able to enjoy myself anyways._

_ It must've been late in the afternoon when the door opened. At first, I barely even recognized the person who entered as a human being. They were shrouded in a clock and hood and sopping wet, water pouring off of them. They stomped their boots a few times, and let loose a string of curses. We all laughed and welcomed him to the Jasmine Dragon. I stood, bowed politely, and motioned for one of the cooks to get in the back and crank up the grill. By the time I turned back to the front, our customer had thrown back my hood and was looking at me with a big lop-sided grin. My own face split into its own grin, and then we had our arms around each other, delivering big, manly slaps to the back._

_ It was Sokka, of course, large and in charge. He had filled out, only an inch shy of my own height. Take away my scar and darken my skin, and one could've been forgiven for thinking we actually __**were**__ brothers, not just acting like it. I showed him to a table and sat myself across from him. I asked him if he wanted anything to eat, and he slapped his stomach and said, "Something meaty, if you don't mind." I passed the order to the kitchen and told the guys I'd take care of everything. I fetched a bottle of sake and poured us two cups and we toasted, lit cigarettes, and set to talking._

_ As if by mutual, unspoken agreement, we stuck to happy, safe topics. I told him about my travels, filled him in on my uncle, shared some humorous anecdotes. He told me about his life in the South, about how his father was getting ready to step down and soon it would be Sokka's turn to be Chief of the Yuupik Clan. He and Suki were married, of course, and she was pregnant with their first child. I led the entire establishment in a round of toasts to that._

_ I asked him what they were going to name the kid when it popped out. He laughed at my phrasing, then said, if it was a girl, they'd name her Kya, and if a boy, Huiliang. I frowned at that. "Huiliang?" I asked. "The fuck did that name come from?" He chuckled and told me that it was Suki's father's name. I laughed and asked, "What about her mother?" He polished off a cup of sake and poured another, saying, "That's for the second round of kids. If it's a boy, it'll be Hakoda, and if a girl, Liqin. I told him it seemed like a pretty nice system. He agreed, and took complete credit for the compromise. At that, I said, "So, in other words, it was all Suki's idea?" He rolled his eyes and said, "Hey, she's not here, I can have my moment in the sun." I asked if I could tell her, next I saw her. He pointed out that I would have to come to the South sometime. I observed that, maybe, just maybe, I'd go hang around on Kyoshi Island and wait for her to pop in, as she inevitably would._

_ That's when we fell silent. At first, we had an excuse, as Sokka's food was ready, and I had to run in the back and fetch it. He laid into it with gusto, since he was, of course, starving. I watched him eat, drinking my sake and smoking my cigarettes. My stomach rumbled, but I wasn't hungry. I hadn't eaten much lately. I was supposed to have left a couple weeks before, just to avoid this kind of situation. I couldn't though._

_ Uncle was very sick._

_ There, I said it. My uncle was sick._

_ Very sick._

_ I didn't tell Sokka that, though. I barely told myself. Hell, I barely tell myself now. Just thinking about it breaks my heart._

_ Finally, Sokka broke the silence, as he is wont to do. He pressed a fist to his chest, belched loud enough to rattle the rafters, and sighed. He poured some sake, downed it, and frowned._

_ "You know," he said, "you're wrong."_

_ I had poured myself some sake as well. I was starting to feel it. I found myself wondering just how much I had drank, just how much I had been drinking lately. I couldn't decide if I was drinking more than usual or not. Even more, I couldn't decide whether or not I cared._

_ "Wrong about what?" I asked. I frowned at my voice. It didn't sound like me, or, at least, not the me I'd come to know. It sounded empty, hollow, lost. It sounded like Prince Zuko._

_ "About the name thing."_

_ "Ah…so, it __**was**__ your idea?"_

_ He shook his head, and looked me right in the eye. "No, it was my sister's."_

_ As usual, I didn't know what to say to that. So, instead, I took a drink and said, "Oh?"_

_ He took a deep breath, let it out, slow and sad. "She talks about you all the time, you know."_

_ Another pour, another drink. "Oh?"_

_ He nodded. I noticed he wasn't drinking anymore. Somehow, the bottle had migrated over to my side of the table. His cup had been turned upside down. "She does. She's always asking about you, wondering if I've heard any word. Any ship that arrives from the outside, she asks if they've heard anything about you. It drives her crazy that Toph is always tight-lipped about it."_

_ Yet another pour, yet another drink. "I see…"_

_ The table jumped. I flinched, saw that he had slammed a fist down on the table, making everything on top jump and rattle. I looked at him, and say frustration in his eyes. It wasn't so much anger, as it was sadness, sadness, confusion, and sympathy, not that made him any less frustrated. _

_ "Gods-dammit, Zuko, just come to the South. You know where she is."_

_ I looked away. The world had lost a little bit of its focus. "Yeah, and she knows where I am…"_

_ "Yeah," he said, waving a hand, "anywhere in the gods-damn fucking __**world**__, that's where. Literally, __**anywhere**__. One month you're in Yu Dao with Toph, the next you're here, waiting tables, and then, suddenly, you're on Ember Island, giving fucking reading lessons to war orphans. You're a bit hard to keep track of."_

_ I don't look at him, just keep my eyes fixed on…_

_ Nothing, I suppose._

_**Nothing at all…**_

_"And she's hard to find, too." My voice is feeble, just like my point. I hate my excuses even as I make them. "First, she's in the North, re-establishing trade and cultural links, then she's back in the South, doing exactly the same, then she's re-introducing education and advanced waterbending and rebuilding shattered cities and fighting an outbreak of dysentery in the Fire Nation and…and…"_

_ I close my eyes, even the one that can't see. I see the letter, the letter that's not for me. I'm in Yu Dao. One of Toph's junior instructors is screaming out in the yard, running first-year students through their paces. The shouting is rhythmic, soothing. It's a constant in my life, whenever I'm there, even when I'm the one doing the shouting. The letter is in my hand. I started reading it out to Toph, but I didn't finish it. Toph puts a foot to the ground, sees what she sees, and takes the letter from my hand. She never asks me to read the rest._

_ "She never did get married, you know."_

_ I keep my eyes closed. It's funny. When both my eyes are closed, I can't help but feel that the dead eye sees more. On the left, is a riot of swirls and shapes and faint, fuzzy colors. It's the right one, the so-called good one, that sees only blackness._

_ "I know."_

_ He sighs, slumps in his chair. I don't see it, but I feel it._

_ "Then why don't you come and visit?"_

_ I still don't open my eyes. I slip off a show, press my foot to the floor. I try to imagine what Toph sees, sense what she senses. I do this sometimes. I'm always curious if I can make it work. When I'm drunk enough, I feel that I can._

_ "Would she marry me now?"_

_ He sighs. I sense him look away._

_ "You know our father won't allow that. Our __**people**__ won't allow that. The elders would pitch a fit; it'd be a scandal. It was bad enough when you were going to be Fire Lord, but now…"_

_ My heart doesn't sink. My blood doesn't run cold. I don't feel anything at all._

_ "Would she run away with me?"_

_ To that, I'm sure Sokka can only do his signature shrug. _

_ "I don't know man. You'd have to ask her."_

_ "And what would you do if she did?"_

_ "I'd toss her into the boat myself."_

_ There's not much to say after that. We try to capture the magic of the first half of the meeting, but the magic is gone. Eventually, he finishes his food, and leaves me to my sake. He doesn't wait for the rain to end. When he tries to pay, I tell him his money is no good here. He smiles and embraces me once more, but the life has gone out of it. He throws on his clothes and ducks out into the rain. The last thing I saw of him was his back, a shadow fading into the darkness._

_ I close the shop early. That night, I check on my uncle. I feed him, help him wash, make him some tea. I only make tea for him, and then only one kind of tea, basic black tea. He doesn't mind; it's the only kind he can stomach these days. He sips it, and we talk about our days on the ship, all the embarrassing things he used to make me do on Music Night. He asks me to get out the Pai Sho board. I do, and he falls asleep halfway through. I tuck him, then rearrange the board so that it looks like he won. It isn't hard; enough now, I never win._

_ The next day, the sun dawns bright and clear. It's a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky. The Jasmine Dragon is packed from the moment we open. It's a non-stop riot of barely organized chaos. By noon, uncle is feeling right as rain. He sneaks in the back, so I won't see him, and makes his appearance when I'm in the middle of taking an order, so I can't send him off with causing a scene. He smiles and says he's feeling better. I believe him, because I want to._

_ He clutches his chest halfway through the dinner service. He smiles and holds my hand as he passes. The last thing he says is, "I'm very proud of you." I give the shop to the assistant manager, and leave the day after the funeral service. I head back to the Fire Nation, and bury his ashes next to his wife and his son._

_ I never set foot in Ba Sing Se again._

* * *

><p>I arrive in Omashu just in time. The port is overrun. Ships have been pouring in all month. The end of autumn storms have passed, and there's a brief, month-ish-long window during which a final frenzy of trading can take place. Fishing bottles jostle for position, rushing out to sea for one last deep-sea run. Imperial Navy ships crowd the drydocks, ready for the winter overhaul. A Fire Nation ship rests at one of the military peers, taking on coal. The bars are packed to bursting with sailors, and everyone and their uncle is making bow-legged hooker jokes. I hear about twenty variation on the same one from the wizened old man who decides to walk next to me on the last leg into town. If there's any moment in my life that makes clear that I'm not longer the man I once was, it's that that man is still alive, with not a single one of his five hairs or his dozen teeth out of place.<p>

It takes a while to find the kind of ship I want, but, as usual at a time like this, in a port like this, it's only a matter of time. It's a beautiful example of Southern Water Tribe craftsmanship. It's painted all kinds of blues and whites and greys and blacks that are almost purple. The bow is carved like a mermaid, only not; it's like she's a wave in the form of a mermaid. The carving really is exquisite. I stop for a moment on the pier to admire her.

The first hand takes one look at me, and likes what he sees. I'm not so sure the feeling is mutual. He's a true sailor, big and brawny and covered in tattoos. He speaks in a snarl, and there's a scar down one side of his face, and only the gods know how many covering his body. He has a massive plug of tobacco in his mouth, and his words are mangled because of it. Whenever he spits, he doesn't look where it lands. Fortunately, I'm a quick learner; he only gets my boot once before I figure out how to avoid the shrapnel.

"So," he says, slapping his belly, "what's your name?"

I shrug. "Does it matter?"

He rolls his head from side-to-side, chewing on it like he chews his tobacco. He lets out a big stream, sailing right by my head. I don't even flinch. He seems to approve.

"Well, I suppose not. Your fucking name, your fucking business. Still, it'd be nice to have something to put on the roll sheet."

"You could just call me _Fuckwad_," I point out.

He laughs, a deep rumble that seems to bubble up from his feet, rattle around his belly, and then fly out his mouth with bits of chewed tobacco. I try not to think about any of it landing on my face.

"I like you, boy," he says, reaching out and patting my shoulder. "Still, if you want to get paid, you have to have a name."

"Well," I say, rolling a cigarette and sticking it my mouth, "in that case, we're both in luck. I don't give a shit if you pay me; I just want passage to the South, and I'm willing to work my way."

That brings the first damper into the conversation. He frowns, steps close, leans in. His breath smells like the rotting corpse of a rotting corpse, but, once again, I manage not to flinch.

"Now, see, that makes me nervous. You're not running from any trouble, are you?"

_Other than the public indecency charge Toph goaded me into? _"Not at all, sir. I just have business in the South, and I can't afford to just book a cabin on a passenger ship. Besides," I say, lighting my cigarette with a match, "I hate lounging around. I prefer to work."

He nods, slow and steady. "And might I ask what your business is in the South?"

"You can ask," I reply, quite amiable and friendly.

His nod turns from slow and steady to slow and knowledgeable. "So, a girl, then."

I frown. "A _woman_, actually, if you must know."

He raises a hand. "Say no more. I've been there myself."

At that, I have to laugh. "What, _you?_"

He steps back to his original position, chuckling. "Hey, I wasn't always like this. Once, I was almost as handsome as you."

I laugh, turning so that he can see my scar. "Not exactly a compliment, sir."

He shrugs. "Hey, we can't all be the Avatar." He raises his clipboard, raps it with a knuckle. "So, you don't care if you get paid, don't care what job you get, and will be jumping ship in the South."

"That's pretty much the long and short of it, sir."

He mulls it over, the reaches over and throws an arm around my shoulders. This results in my having the uncomfortable sensation of, for once, being much shorter than someone else.

"Well, we're a little short-handed – _as fucking usual_ – so, what the hell, why the fuck not? Besides, I like you boy, so you're hired. Can you cook?"

"Do you give a shit if it's any good?"

"Not a fucking bit."

"Then absolutely.

"Great. Hey, Aklaq! Meet Fuckwad! Go get him a bunk!"

And that's how I came to spend my first trip to the Southern Water Tribes since I stumbled upon a boy fresh from an iceberg, shucking potatoes and burning sea prunes.

* * *

><p><em>We saw each other in the North, in the capital, Iqaluit. We weren't supposed to, or, at least, she wasn't supposed to. I was heading into my second year of wandering. I had spent the first half of it walking around the southern half of the Fire Nation, after which I hoped a trading ship and worked my way over to the Earth Kingdom. I went and saw Song, stayed there for a while, then headed west. I spent a few weeks at Toph's new academy in Yu Dao, helping her torture her students while she helped me waste my money, then I heard the news about what was going on in the North and found a Northern Water Tribe fishing vessel that was desperate for an extra hand. I worked my way to the North, convinced a farmer to let me be his bodyguard in exchange for some food and the right to sleep under his cart, and thus came to Iqaluit.<em>

_ At first, I didn't know what to do. I wandered around, confused and slightly depressed that no one recognized me. Other than the occasional glare at being Fire Nation, everyone completely ignored me. It wasn't that I wanted to be recognized, so much as it was rather humbling to realize how little I mattered in the grand scheme of things. After all, why should any of them know me? I hadn't exactly announced my presence to the populace on my last visit, and it wasn't like there hadn't been bigger things going on. Still, though, considering my first few months of freedom were spent thanking the gods for that stupid fucking play (What? Me, Prince Zuko? Oh, no, he has his scar on the __**other**__ side. Come on, __**everybody**__ knows that!), it was a rather humbling experience._

_ Then my fifth minute in town passed and I got over it. _

_ The delegation from the South hadn't quite arrived yet, so I had some time to kill until I had to make up my mind as to whether or not to think about doing something that I would probably wuss out of. I wandered the poorer parts of the city, until I found a bar with a __**Help Wanted**__ sign out front. I knocked on the door, stuck my head in, and when I showed just how well I could sling drinks, I was hired on the spot and put to work. The owner even let me sleep on his living room floor for the first week, until it came time to pay me. Then I found a shitty bachelors' hostel a few blocks away, and whiled away my days working and throwing rocks into the sea and my nights playing cards with the other broke single guys who shared my room, of whom there were seven, two to each of the four beds. I was really quite popular, because whenever I got paid, the owner would let me take home a bottle or two of whatever cheap shit he was trying to clear out. It typically tasted as bad as it smelled, but none of the other guys had enough money to care._

_ I honestly hadn't a clue what I was up to. I was one my way to work when the ship from the South arrived. There was a big crowd and lots of fanfare. I probably could've elbowed my way to the front, but I couldn't quite muster the energy or desire. I couldn't help but play such a scene in my head. I'd be standing at the edge of the crowd, making myself as tall as possible. Katara would be making her entry with the other delegates, probably sandwiched between her brother and her grandmother, walking behind that old man Pakku and her father. I would wave and shout and holler and scream her name, and she would see me and…and…_

_ And what…?_

_ That was my problem. I couldn't fathom what would follow that. My imagination failed me. In an out-of-character moment, it even failed to come up with any negative outcomes. I just…__**drew a blank.**_

_ Like I keep saying, it's a common problem for me. I'm not the world's most imaginative person._

_ In the end, she found me. I have no idea how. She never bothered to explain it. There I was, in the bar, getting ready to close up shop. I was wiping down the tables and stacking the chairs, emptying out the ashtrays and sweeping the floor. The owner had headed out for the night, and I was just about to lock the door. Suddenly, I heard that very door bang open and shut. Without looking up, I said, "Sorry, we're closed." In reply, I heard a voice I knew oh so very well say, with a smile that could be heard a mile away, "Are you sure about that?"_

_ I feel no shame in saying that I dropped the broom._

_ It was like no time had passed, like the angry words that had marked her departure from the Fire Nation had never been uttered, like that final time in bed had never felt like a goodbye. She flew into my arms and I flew into hers and it was the best kiss I've ever had in my life. I closed and locked up, and then we went and booked ourselves into a seedy little motel with a bottle of ice wine, all while she giggled about __**expense accounts**__ and the __**generosity of Chief Arnook.**__ Neither of us slept much. We just talked and made love and talked some more._

_ She was in the North for a month before it was time for her to go. In a break in the pattern, she snuck me into the Chief's palace for that final night. Sokka himself made sure to hustle me in through a servant's door, and Suki volunteered the use of their room, reasoning that Hakoda would never barge in unannounced. That night was just as good as all the others, made even better by the presence of an actual bed and easy access to the Chief's cellar full of top vintage ice wine. _

_ Before I slipped out in the morning, I took her hands in mine and dropped to my knee. She was crying and so was I. Whenever I cry, I always get frustrated, because phantom tears will burn in my dead eye, tears that I can't shed and that never seem to go away. That time, though, I didn't care. I just cried without shame and asked her to marry me, to run away with me, or let me run away to her._

_ She wanted to. Oh, gods, I know she wanted to. She mouthed the word __**yes**__, over and over and over again. But in the end, all she could do was close eyes and say, __**I can't.**_

_ I shook my head. I understood, but I didn't want to. I knew the answer, but I still had to ask, "Why?"_

_ She dropped down to her knees before me, so that we were eye to eye. We were very close. I could feel her breath on my skin. _

_ "Because I'd have to give up everything, and I just can't do that. I'd have to leave my people, my family, my father, and I…I just can't do that, Zuko…I'm so sorry…so sorry…"_

_ I wasn't angry. The last time, I was, more with the situation than with her. But more than a year had passed, and the water, as they say, had passed under the bridge. Time does not heel all wounds, or even any wounds, really, but it does make them easier to gaze upon. I shook my head and pulled her close. We clutched each other, there in the pre-dawn darkness, and cried into each other's shoulders. She said she was sorry, and I said she didn't have to be. I told her I was the one who should be sorry, and she slapped me and told me not to be such an idiot. I told her to go first. She laughed, which only made her cry harder._

_ The last thing I said to her was, "I'll always love you."_

_ The last thing she said to me was, "Not as much as I'll love you."_

_ Anytime I stopped in the North after that, I always made sure she wasn't there._

* * *

><p>Because life is never clear, simple, and easy, the ship never did stop in the territory of the Yuupik clan. No, the closest it got before beginning its return trip was the Inupiat clan, about a week's travel up the coast. I'd rather enjoyed my time on the boat, and the crew said I was the best cook they'd ever had. Alas, it was time to go, no matter how much the first mate tried to convince me to stay on. He gave me a pat on the back, made a final attempt to pay me, and sent me on my way.<p>

Feeling not in a rush, I used some of the money that Toph had pressed upon me before I left Gaoling and stocked up on warm clothes and supplies. Then, I once more got out my trusty walking stick and began the trip.

I felt a lot of things on that trip, became a lot of people. At one point, I swear I was eighteen again, stumbling out into the snow, surrounded by a blizzard. My last chance to capture the Avatar had come, and not only had I let it slip through my fingers, I hadn't even really tried. My heart was no longer in it, maybe it never had been. I had let Zhao be pulled to his death, making only a token show of trying to help him. I was tired, so tired. That exhaustion came back to me. I stumbled, and I felt very cold. The only thing that kept me warm was the smile of a young woman who didn't really seem to hate me, even as she beat my ass.

Once, I stopped and spent a night in a cave. I warmed myself by a fire and ate cold jerky. A light snowfall drifted down outside. I couldn't see a soul, and couldn't hear a sound, not even the whistle of the wind at the mouth of the cave. I sat and stared into the fire, and imagined that the flicking light was actually the glitter of crystals in the walls. The young woman was there, the one who had been haunting my dreams, both during the day and at night. She reached up and touched my face, ran her fingers down my scar. I imagined that the scar had feeling, that I could feel those fingers, those warm fingers, far rougher than the hands of any girl I'd ever known, trace their way along the grooves and tracks. I closed my eyes again, and wanted nothing more than to kiss her.

I opened my eyes. My sister was before me. The fire was no longer moving. Everything was very still. I didn't know if I was dreaming, or if I was going mad, or maybe I was just freezing to death. Maybe this one of those visions that Aang used to prattle on about. I looked into my sister's eyes, and saw only madness. She was very thin, skin and bones. After Katara had beaten her, she had refused to eat or drink or sleep. When the only alternative had been to strap her down and force-feed her, my uncle had pulled me aside and told me to ask her what she wanted.

She was very clear. She wanted to die. She knew what I was going to do and she didn't want to live in that kind of world, where a princess could fall to a peasant and where royalty was no more. So I gave her a _tantō _and let her take the honorable way out. She actually thanked me before I struck her head from her shoulders.

She smiled. I smiled back.

"What do you want, Azula?"

"I want to ask you a question."

"Ask away."

"Was it hard?"

"Was what hard?"

"Giving everything up? The throne? All of that?"

"Not at all. In fact, I didn't give anything up. Saying that I _gave it up_ implies that there was ever another option. There wasn't."

"What about betraying me? Turning me down beneath Ba Sing Se? Running off with your new little friends?"

"That…that was hard."

"Why?"

"Because I love you Azula. I always have, and I always will. That I failed you will haunt me to my grave."

She laughed. "You didn't fail me. You can't lose a game Father always made sure you never got the chance to play."

I looked away. "If you say so."

"Zuzu…"

I looked up, and she was gone. I reached out for her, and woke up. I blinked. It had all been a dream. It was morning, so I packed up and headed out.

The snow had stopped falling when I finally arrived, but the sun was still hidden and it was very cold. Thick snow crunched under my boots. For the first time, my walking stick served a purpose other than to exist. Any time there was a cleared path, there was always a patch of black, barely visible ice. I almost ended up on my ass more than once.

I wandered aimlessly through the village, marveling at the changes. The wall was gone, the buildings bigger, prettier, no longer simple utilitarian structures that could be abandoned at a moment's notice. There were a lot more people, too, people who had fled to the countryside but how now returned to the villages and towns. And the number of young people was mind-boggling. Nothing I had yet seen in all of my travels more brought home the fact that the War was well and truly done.

I stopped here and there, asking questions, being curious. I couldn't seem to make myself ask the questions I had come to ask, _if I had indeed come to ask them_, so, instead, I asked about other, more pointless, bullshit. I found out that many of the people were in town for the New Year's festivities. I watched a few dance circles, through a coin in the bowl of a musician who impressed me. Tents were going up in the empty spaces outside of town, and buildings were being washed and decorated.

As could only be expected, she was the one who found me. I was standing in the town square, watching a couple of tribesmen wash down the War memorial. I was admiring the memorial, thinking how, of all the memorials I had seen spring up over the past few years, this was one of the best. It just had an exquisite charm to it, a solid reality, a uniqueness that most of the other memorials lacked. Most memorials are completely indistinguishable from each other; it's strange to find one that actually sticks out from the crowd, that reaches into your heart and tugs at the strings.

That's when I heard her voice. It was simple, one word.

_Zuko…_

I turned, and there she was. She was more beautiful than ever. I didn't know what to do. I took a step forward, a step back. She did the same. We started to raise our arms, dropped them. We started to laugh, stopped, and then we both looked like we were going to cry. My tongue swelled up in my mouth, and I honestly didn't know what else to do. I felt very small, very lost, very alone. She looked like she felt the same way.

Finally, I figured out something to say. "You look beautiful."

She smiled. It was a sweet smile, small and sad and lovely.

"Thank you. You…you look very handsome. I like the beard."

I chuckled. I reached up, ran gloved fingers through the growth. "I was afraid you wouldn't like it in its final form."

She tilted her head, her lips quirking. "And if I hadn't liked it?"

I shrugged. "Then I would've cut it off, of course."

She took a deep breath, let it out. Her eyes glittered in the week sunlight. I wondered if mine was doing the same.

"You'd do that for me?"

I could only look her in the eyes. "I'd do anything for you."

"Even…even if I told you that you would have to wait another six years?"

I shrugged, rubbed the back of my neck. "I've already done six. And besides, I haven't been back home in a while. I hear they're doing some amazing things with lightning bending."

"Just don't throw yourself in front of any of them."

"Oh, don't worry. I don't risk my life idiotically anymore. I prefer a much more low-risk form of idiocy, thank you very much."

"Heh…somehow, I doubt that."

Silence fell. We shifted out feet. We looked away, looked back, looked away once more. We were beginning to attract strange looks. It was only a matter of time until someone figured out who I was, and drama began. I didn't care, but I worried about Katara. I sighed, looked back to her, shrugged.

"Look, I'm sorry…this was stupid. I should-"

"Marry me."

I stopped. My mouth dropped open. My heart leapt up into my throat. I could think. I couldn't breathe. All I could was croak out, "_Come again…?_"

She stepped forward. First one foot, then the other, one after another. With every step, my heart crawled further up my throat.

"My father is stepping down at the New Year's celebrations, handing the reins over to my brother. When that happens, it's traditional for the Chief to grant a boon to anyone who asks. He asked me what I wanted. I said, without thinking, _I want you to promise not to hate me._ He laughed, and asked how could he ever hate me. I told him, _You'll figure it out._"

She was before me. She was very close. My hand was trembling at my side. The walking stick was vibrating at the end of my arm. She couldn't stop biting her lip, or shifting her weight, rubbing her hands together.

"So, what I'm saying is…marry me. Run away with me. Don't ever let me go."

What else could I do? I dropped the walking stick and flung my arms around her. She buried her face into my chest and wrapped her arms around me. She burst into tears, and I did, too.

I said only one thing:

_"Never."_

* * *

><p><em>The handover of power went off without a hitch. Sokka's first official act was to institute elections for all future chiefs. His second official act was to life the official prohibition of marriage between Water Tribe and Fire Nation. His third official act was to quickly and quietly get a shaman drunk enough to marry Katara and I. Suki stood witness. Sokka gave the bride away.<em>

_ We take off the next day. Some of Suki's warrior-sisters had come to the festivities, and to see their former leader's husband become a Chief. We hitch a ride with them. The sun sets while we're at sea. Katara leans on the railing, and I stand behind her, my arms around her, my chin on the top of her head. She asks me if I've ever seen a more beautiful sunset. I confess that I haven't._

_ Before we left, Sokka, as he bundled us onto the ship, asked if we were worried about getting lost. Katara had laughed and taken my hand and said, smiling at me, "Not all who wander are lost."_

_ I had to laugh. She stole my line._

* * *

><p>So, today, I didn't have to work. I decided to go wander around a bit. I found myself lost as fuck over in River Legacy Park, and I found myself thinking of that stupid line, "Not all who wander are lost." It's actually pretty profound, but it's used so often and so randomly that's it's become trite and cliche. It is what it is, I suppose. Still, there I was, without a clue of where I was in the damn park, starting to get hot and sweaty, when I think this line. I laugh, and then I think of Zuko. That led to a plot bunny, which segued into how, thanks to Haruki Murakami's brilliance and his amazing short stories (including the current collection I'm reading, <em>Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman<em>), I've been wanting to work on my short story skills. Now, the way I typically experiment and try things out these days, is in fan fiction. So, I sat down at around one, and banged this out in the following seven hours, with a brief break for dinner (which was Subway and cigarettes, because that's how I roll).

So...yeah, I'm actually really proud of this. That's why I'm not going to say anything else. I hope you guys liked it. If you do, please let me know.

Because I love you guys. And I miss you. But I made a deal with my wife to finish my current original project before I dive back in with a major fanfic. Which is coming...

It really is! Just, you know, career shit first and all that.

Later!

- kangaroo

PS - If any of you has the urge, please, please, PLEASE draw me a picture of bearded Zuko. I'll love you forever.


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